


Easier to grieve in company

by Multifandom_damnation



Category: The Gifted (TV 2017)
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Canonical Character Death, Episode: s01e08 threat of eXtinction, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Minor Lorna Dane/Marcos Diaz, Missing Scene, Protective Team, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-22 10:42:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30037485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multifandom_damnation/pseuds/Multifandom_damnation
Summary: Twin mounds of fresh-tilled earth stood out in the grove, decorated by a family photo, creased and folded, and a soldier's final goodbye as a scattering of dirt fell from between his numb fingers.When John finally fell asleep that night, he was restless and miserable, and very, very lonely.
Relationships: John Proudstar & Reed Strucker
Kudos: 1





	Easier to grieve in company

**Author's Note:**

> So, my family recently brought Disney+ and I've been spending all my free time watching the Gifted, and I'm so damn happy that I can finally watch it! I've been scraping by with clips on youtube and episode reviews, and I finally get to watch the show myself! I've missed out on so many good scenes! Like the one this fic was based on, where Reed and John burry Otto and Gus. If you've read any of my works, you'll know how much I love the dynamic between the mutants who built the Underground up from nothing, and between Gus and John (and Marcos and Lorna, but you know, they already come as a package deal) so when I got this idea after watching episode 8, I just couldn't help myself. Anyway, if anyone reads this, tell me what you think, and feel free to shout at me about the Gifted in the comments now that I can finally watch it!

Twin mounds of fresh-tilled earth stood out in the grove, decorated by a family photo, creased and folded, and a soldier's final goodbye as a scattering of dirt fell from between his numb fingers. 

Ultimately, it was Reed who rose first, dusting his hands off on his pants. There was a troubled look on his face, but John didn't think much of it, not after he had just helped him bury his father. After Reed just helped him bury his friend. "We should go," he said absently. "They've probably got their wits about them now after they were scared off. They don't like being made a fool off. They'll send double the men to retaliate. We don't want to be here when they come."

Nodding, John stood. Gus's grave was cold and unwelcoming, and if John had the time or the choice, he would never have buried his friend in such a hastily dug thing away from prying eyes, dumped unceremoniously in a six-foot hole in the ground, no casket, no funeral, no family to weep their goodbyes. He turned away and made his way back towards the truck. The earth was softer here than where they had parked, and he heard Reed follow behind him, his boots crunching on the bark and stones.

The ride back to the Atlanta Station was silent, and the confines of the car almost felt suffocating, forcing them to be trapped with their own grief. John mourned Gus for the second time, and Reed mourned a man he never really knew. John's grip tightened on the wheel as he remembered the way Gus's shaking hands had grasped his hand, shaking, apologising, as he took his final breath. The first time John had watched him die, he was face down in the dirt, body twisted and still, bleeding. The second time, John watched as the life left his eyes, watched as he took his last breath, felt the strength leave him as his hand in his went slack.

He wasn't sure what he would tell Lorna and Marcos. He knew they would understand, but he left on a mission to save their friend, and now he was returning without him. And with such news...

"What was he like?"

Blinking, John turned away from where he was staring pointedly at the dark road illuminated by the dusty headlights to glance at Reed, leaning against the passenger side window, arms crossed over his chest, staring at John with a curious expression. "What was that?"

"Your friend," Reed continued quietly. John felt his heart skip a beat, his hands tightened subconsciously on the wheel. Reed glanced at the creaking leather but didn't seem too bothered. He must have been tired. It was a long step away from how he used to react to dangerous things like that. "The one we buried tonight. What was he like? You two seemed... close. Close like you and Marcos and Lorna are close."

For a painful moment, John wasn't sure if he wanted to discuss it with Reed, with the man who was responsible for putting plenty of mutants away in those detention facilities, who was probably the one to lock Gus away all that time ago, and who was just as guilty as TRASK was. But there was something in his face, in the way he was watching John with no sense of distaste or doubt, just pure curiosity, had the words coming before he could stop them. "Brother," he corrected lightly. "He was my brother."

"You refer to Marcos as your brother a lot," Reed observed, and John turned his eyes back to the road. He hadn't thought it was so obvious. "Were you as close with Pulse as you were with Marcos?"

"Pretty much," John conceded. "His name was Gus. I knew him the longest, longer than either Marcos or Lorna. We all built the Underground up together, but Gus and I were friends even before then."

"Where did you two meet?"

"The Marines,"

Reed made an impressed little whistle, and John spared a look. He was glancing up and down at John, head tilted to the side as if he was trying to picture him in uniform, charging through bullets and into enemy lines. "I didn't know you were in the Marines."

"Yeah, they were looking for mutants to use as cannon-fodder, to put at the front lines as a shield so their human soldiers could live longer, hoping we would use up all of their ammo. Gus and I joined so we could show them that not at all mutants were terrifying criminals. We wanted them to know that we were just like them," He shrugged. "Lasted for a while. We did good work. But it didn't last."

To his credit, Reed looked genuinely interested, and he shifted in his seat so he was sitting up straighter but was still looking at John with that same intensity. "What happened to him? I've heard you and the others talking about him, more so lately, but still. You said he was in some... detention facility? And that's when Sentinel took him?"

There was a part of John that didn't want to tell him. It was none of his business, and John had just buried him for gods sakes. But then John remembered that Reed also just buried his father and that he knew from experience that sometimes when you lose someone, the best thing you can do is talk about who they were when they were alive. "It's a long story," he said. There was no other car on the road, and there was nothing but their little patch of tarmac for miles. "We got home alright, and then 7/15 happened, and they were arresting mutants left and right. We started building up the Mutant Underground, and we found Marcos and Lorna and Sage the others. Then we got word that they were arresting some of the mutants they had conscripted to fight in their front lines and were charging them with petty crimes to put them in detention centres, and we kept our heads down. He went out on a supply run one night, they caught him, and they shipped him away to a facility. Said he was 'disturbing the peace' or something, I don't know. It was all a lie, anyway. Just a reason for them to lock him up. We went after him, Marcos, Lorna and I, and we nearly tore that place apart trying to get him back. Nobody was hurt, but we weren't leaving there without Gus, and we were willing to do anything we had to in order to get him home."

They drove in silence for a few miles, past the sign that estimated their entrance back towards the suburbs the Station was clustered in before Reed broke it again. "That's all well and good," he said carefully. "But you never told me what he was like. I don't care who he was- you can slap a name and a title onto anyone. That doesn't mean anything. But what was he like?"

John actually thought for a moment before he spoke this time. "He was... like an old man in a young man's body. Crotchety, and grumpy, and clinical. No matter how much we planned, or how much we prepared ourselves, he was always convinced that something was going to go wrong, but he always laughed the loudest and played pranks like nobodies business. He was fun-loving and kinder than he had any right to be," he smiled at the memory. "He played his music too loud, and he smelled of pepper and pomegranate. He never made his damn bed, and even though we served two tours, they never were able to beat into him any sense of order, and he left his things all over the floor. He made fun of Lorna and Marcos when he intentionally caught them making out behind the storage sheds, and he only got out alive every time because of his abilities. They hated it when he did that. And he... he always knew exactly what to say to make you feel better, you know? The kind of guy who knew you better than you knew yourself. Whenever I got too wrapped up in the things inside my head, Gus was always there to pull me back out. He knew me longer than anyone, and not a day goes by when I don't think about him, and how much he meant to me," he reached up with one hand to wrap his fingers around the dog-tags that hung from his neck. "It's his tags that I wear. Well, his and mine, I suppose. We got two each- we split them. I never take them off. Until Sentinal got him, I'm not sure he did either."

To his surprise, when he spared a glance at Reed, he was smiling. "There you go," he said. "That's what I wanted to hear. Now he sounds like a real person, not just another casualty with a title. He seemed like a great guy. I wish I could have met him."

He managed to hold back the truthful retort that Gus probably would have torn Reed's head off with his teeth before he willingly got to know him, but he bit his tongue. "What about your old man? What was he like?"

Reed shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not pleased with this new scrutiny. "You know, he was like any other crappy father," he said with more mirth than John was expecting, as if he had already made peace with it once they put him in the ground. "He was absent- always buried in his work, even too busy to come and visit me in the hospital when I was being treated for suspected leukemia. Very devoted to his studies. He was a provider, though, and he put a roof over our heads. I've tried my best not to turn out like him, but looking back, I guess my best wasn't enough, and I should have tried harder."

"I wouldn't say that," John protested weakly. He wasn't in the mood to make someone else feel better about themselves, but he just couldn't help himself. "I've seen you with the kids, with Caitlin. You're a great father and a great husband. You shouldn't be thinking otherwise."

"Thanks," Reed said, and he sounded like he meant it. "And for what it's worth, you're a good leader. You're doing a pretty good job with the group you've got going on here. I know my wife and I give you all a lot of trouble, but we know you mean well, and that you've been doing this for a lot longer than we have. We're just worried about our kids, is all. It's hard to let go when you know how much danger they can get into."

John didn't know what to say to that, so he didn't say anything at all, and they drove the rest of the way in silence. 

They parked the car in the empty space beside the other ones missing their licences plates, and the moment the two of them entered the derelict and overly-crowded building, Reed immediately ventured towards the company of his family, wide awake and waiting anxiously for his return. John watched him for a moment, standing alone and still in the middle of the darkened hall before two arms wrapped around him and pull him from his thoughts. 

"Hey," Lorna murmured into his skin. Instinctually, his arms rose to wrap around her smaller torso, and even with a baby on the way, she still fit against him like a puzzle piece. "How'd it go?"

"Uh," John swallowed, hard. Lorna reluctantly pulled away and was immediately replaced by Marcos's much taller frame, long arms wrapping around John and holding him to his chest. "Not good."

At his side, he heard Lorna let out a slow, pained breath. Marcos pulled away but kept a hand on John's arm like he was afraid John would lose his footing and fall to the floor like a sack of flour. John couldn't meet their eyes. "Well, what happened?" Marcos asked. "Tell us everything."

John shrugged. "There's not much to tell. We spoke to Reed's father- apparently TRASK bastardised his research, and used his studies in suppressing the X-gene into... the HOUND program," he swallowed. "Gus was there. Otto killed him when they broke in, and a Sentental Service agent shot him. We buried both of them together on a mound outside of city limits."

Marcos sucked in a breath, his grip tightening on John's arm as he exchanged a glance with Lorna. "John I'm... I'm so sorry."

"You shouldn't be," John tried to shrug Marcos's hand off, to no avail. "He was your friend, too. You guys should have a chance to mourn without you feeling sorry for me."

"We mourned for him a long time ago, John. The first time," Lorna gently rested a hand on his bicep. If he focused, he could hear two different heartbeats coming from her, one resolute and strong, the other no more than a faint flutter. "He was your best friend. You have every right to be upset about his death."

Heaving a deep breath, John fisted his hands in his pockets and tried not to pull away from their touch or their compassion. A part of him just wanted to hide away until the pain faded, the other part wanted to bury himself in his work so he didn't have to think about Gus, and another, smaller part wanted him to seek out Sonya for the night and not think about anything at all. "He died in my arms," he managed after a silent moment. "He told me he was sorry."

"Oh John," Marcos breathed. 

"He was there, in the end," John continued. " _Our_ Gus, the _real_ Gus. Not the mindless monster that they turned him into. He was there- I saw him. And there was nothing I could do about it. I couldn't save him, and he died again because I let him down."

"Don't, John," Lorna said, surprisingly sharply. "Don't do this to yourself."

"We were all there that day. We all made that choice," Marcos continued for her, looking back to John with earnest eyes. "You can't take the blame for that. There was nothing you could have done. You need to stop blaming yourself for things our of your control before it eats you away from the inside out."

"We couldn't save Pulse- _Gus_ ," Lorna's grip tightened on his arm. If his skin wasn't so thick, her nails would have been digging into his arm in her passion, drawing blood. "But maybe we can save someone else. Maybe we can prevent anyone else from having to go through that."

He didn't know what to say, so John gently shrugged himself out of their grasp and pulled away with a small smile. It was forced, and they all knew that but it did the trick, and he was able to slip from their small huddle. "I should get back to work," he said before they could stop him. "We've got a lot to do tomorrow. Figure out what we're going to do with the information you got from that spy today. Good job, by the way. I knew I could count on you."

"John..." Marcos tried hopelessly after John walked away. When it became obvious that nothing he could say would stop him, he gestured vaguely and said with a defeated sigh, "Just don't work too hard, alright brother? Get some sleep. We'll talk about this in the morning."

"Come and get me if you need anything," John said as he turned the corner. He glanced over his shoulder to see Marcos and Lorna already wrapped in a tight embrace, Lorna with her face buried in his chest, Marcos resting his chin on her crown, comforting each other after such sorrow news. John hated that he had to be the one to tell them, but he rather it be him than anyone else. He spared a quick look to Reed- he was sitting on a cot opposite his children, holding his wife's hand as he told the family about what happened with his father. He was going to be alright, John noted, as he made his way towards his room.

For a moment, he considered searching out Sonya and spending the night with her, wrapped up in her arms, her long hair gently splayed across the pillow and his chest, her tiny, fragile frame in his own, protected within the circle of his arms and her soft pink breath ghosting across his skin. He might even find Clarice, just for someone to talk to, someone who didn't know Gus and didn't know what John did to him, just some company and a shoulder to lean on and a set of open ears. 

In the end, John retired to his bed, alone, and fell asleep with his hands wrapped around Gus's dog tags around his neck, remembering his terrible taste in music and his scent of pepper and pomegranate, the way his brows would pull together when he was stressed and his face would light up when he smiled, the weight of his hand on his back or his arm slung around his shoulder, and imagined, not for the first time, that he was asleep in the bunk beside him, waiting until the station fell asleep so they could talk about the ins-and-outs of the world until the sun came up.

When John finally fell asleep, he was restless and miserable, and very, very lonely.

**Author's Note:**

> Side note: I always knew it, but seeing how in love Marcos and Lorna are during season one just hits differently than watching disjointed clips on youtube. They just love each other so much, you guys! They're soulmates! Their relationship makes me so happy!!


End file.
